That crazy little thing
by Lunedd
Summary: Steve let out a bitter, angry half-laugh. "Oh, no, you won't just go mute on me now. I deserve the whole story, don't you think so? I had to put my finger inside you to keep you from dying! Don't try to palm me off with 'it was nothing!" He trembled, his whole body was shaking lightly with the emotions coursing through him.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note: _

When 8.18 came out, I was excited!

Finally we would get to know who shot Danny back in 8.10, and why! And then the episode came... and Danny's storyline left me with more questions than it had answered. It just didn't sit right with me, so my mind came up with this little story. There were just so many gaps that I felt needed to be closed, and this is my try on it. I am aware that this might not be what you, my dear readers, felt when you watched the episode, but I just - I needed to get it out. Please be patient with me. :)

I'm not a native English speaker; the story is not beta-read (yes, there are reasons for that, but I don't discuss this stuff in public). I hope you still give it a try!

The story is finished and consists of 5 chapters.

P.S.: Thanks, Nade, for always supporting me! :*

P.P.S.: The story title is based on the song title "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" by Queen

P.P.S.: The usual - I do not own anything related to Hawaii-Five-0, just using it as a playground!

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_Denial__: Refusal to acknowledge an unacceptable truth or emotion or to admit it into consciousness, used as a defence mechanism. _[Oxford Dictionary]

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_**Today**_

Steve leaned against the computer table in the middle of the room, arms crossed, eyes fixed on Danny. His best friend and partner was sitting in his office, one hand playing absentmindedly with a pencil, while the other was clamped so hard around the receiver of his desk phone that the knuckles were white.

They were low on cases at the moment; perhaps after all the years since Governor Jameson had set up the Five-0 task force, the criminals had finally accepted that they would always pull the shorter straw against them, and gave Hawaii a wide berth. This thought was supposed to comfort and satisfy Steve, but he had been an active man all his life, and being without a proper case left him restless.

Especially restless now, after Danny's Uncle Vito had, literally by accident, given them a lead on the guy that had shot and almost killed Danny some months ago. A week had passed since they got the tip, and although every fiber in Steve demanded to jump onto the next plane to New Jersey and tear down the whole city until he found the reason why the guy had shot Danny, he had to keep his feet still.

Danny had asked him to, and, as hard as that was for Steve, he had to agree that Danny should try the legal way first. So, Danny had been busy all week calling old colleagues, pulling favors, and, finally, even contacted some not-so-legal sources. Of course the name Uncle Vito had given them had been an alias, just like the one the man used to check in to his hotel. All week, it had been as if the man had never existed, although the physical evidence was still stored in the morgue.

It was frustrating, and they argued more than ever. What had looked like finally, _finally _a breakthrough had only burned down the last remains of countenance they had, until Grover talked some sense into them. Lou had been insisting that they should pass the case over to the Newark police, even though he had committed the crime in Hawaii, since the guy was originally from there, and because they both were personally too involved to see anything in the right perspective. This one call that Danny now made was the last one he would do before he would send everything they had so far, and that was embarrassingly sparse, on to the Newark police.

Steve sighed silently and tensed when Danny finally hung up. He tried to make eye-contact with his partner, but Danny, although he obviously knew Steve was standing there, watching him, didn't lift his head to look at him. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and stared at the framed picture of the Brooklyn Bridge to his left, before suddenly startling and rubbing hard with both hands over his face.

"Hey. How'd it go?" Steve couldn't stand the tension any longer and stalked over to Danny's office, leaning against the door frame now, arms still crossed to hide his twitching fingers. "Did you get a name?"

"Huh?" Danny startled again and blinked at Steve, visibly pulling himself together. Steve frowned. "Yeah, yeah. I got the name. I got it." Danny's voice trailed off, and Steve had to muster all his zen to resist the urge and simply pull Danny up from his chair and shake the answer out of him, when Danny eventually continued. "It's Ray Gardner. The guy was Ray Gardner."

That didn't ring a bell in Steve, and the frown deepened. He tried to connect the name to something, _anything_ Danny had told him or he had discovered personally in the last eight years about Danny's past in New Jersey, but came up with nothing.

"Ray Gardner?"

Danny nodded minutely, slowly rubbing over the bridge of his nose. "Yeah. Why didn't I recognize him? How could I forget his face?" The rubbing was getting more frantic, until Danny suddenly stopped and looked at Steve. "You've been right all along. He was someone I once booked, but that was such a long time ago, I simply forgot about him! And Brooke…" There it was again, that pensive look that Steve didn't like, because he couldn't follow where his friend's thoughts were heading to. No matter how deep he had dug into Danny's past to get to know all about him, some things were always elusive. And this? This obviously was part of that, and Steve couldn't help but feel guilty. His obvious failure in finding that information about Danny had almost cost Danny his life. He wouldn't let anything like this happen again. _Ever_.

"Danny, stop talking in riddles. Who is Ray Gardner? And who is Brooke?" Steve's fingers were itching to feed the computer the names and finally find out what this all had been about.

"Ray Gardner is — was — God, I never thought he was able to kill someone." Danny sucked at his upper lip and started playing with the pencil again. "He was violent, yes, sure, but outright planning to kill someone?"

"_Danny_…!"

At the sharp tone of Steve's voice, Danny sat up and breathed through. "You might want to sit down," he gestured toward the visitor's chair opposite of his desk. "This will take a little while. And it's all my fault."

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**19**_** years ago**_

"Hey, Danny, Danny-boy, are you asleep?" A sharp knock at the window on the driver's side of the police car, and then Rick Peterson's amused voice tore Danny out of the stupor he had fallen into and made him blink sheepishly at the older officer. He yawned and wound down the window. Working double-shifts always got to him at the end of those long hours, and although he followed Rick's advice: loads of coffee, going to bed early before the double-days, he still felt wrung out and cranky.

Well, at least Rick knew how to lift his spirits, Danny mused when he grabbed the steaming cup of coffee and the bag with donuts Rick offered him through the now open window. "Thanks, man," Danny groaned and rolled his shoulders a bit to ease the tension from sitting too long in the car, but to no avail.

"Just two more hours, D, and we're on our way home and allowed to sleep as long as we want. Well, at least _you _can." Rick chuckled when he got into the car. "For me, there's a lively six-year-old waiting at home that wants to spend time with his Daddy. And you know what? I wouldn't change a single thing in my life. Not even these lousy double-shifts. They'll make the money I need to send the kid to college one day. May I give you some advice?"

Danny yawned again, but nodded. He had just turned 22, had moved out from his parents' house not even three months ago, and a fatherly friend like Rick meant a lot to him. Rick always made sure to give advice off duty, no commands or orders, something he had probably learned was best after being Danny's mentor in the academy and first partner after graduation. He wasn't smothering or demanding and it worked for them.

"Start putting money aside. For your future wife, your future house, your future children. It's important you start now when you don't need much for yourself. Because one day, you'll need all the money you can get your hands on to feed hungry mouths and pay the mortgage on a house you never knew you even wanted. If I had done that before," Rick lifted his index finger and wagged it in front of Danny's face, "then I wouldn't have to work in these ungodly hours and sit here with a rookie who can barely keep his eyes open!"

They both laughed about this old joke, but got serious again when the dispatcher's voice crackled over the radio. "_Patrols around Harrison, we have a 4-0-0 Ann Street and Manor Avenue, please come in._"

Rick sighed and rolled his eyes. He stuffed the donut back into the bag, and wiped his sugary fingers on the upholstery of the seat, grinning about Danny's disapproving huff. He grabbed the radio. "Patrol Car 3963, Officer Peterson here. We're two blocks away, we'll cover it." He nodded at Danny to get the car moving, and Danny obeyed with a sigh of his own, turning the car one-handed while his other hand still held the coffee cup.

They arrived five minutes later at the small, white house, and while Rick checked in with the dispatcher, Danny left the car and strode over to the front door, waiting for Rick to join him before he would knock. As far as he could see in the relative darkness of the night, the house looked tidy; the garden that flanked the gravel approach was taken care of and neat.

Danny shrugged, wondering if they were at the wrong house when from inside came the clatter of breaking glass, and then an angry male voice, accompanied by the loud sound of a slap was audible. Danny's right hand instinctively went to his holstered gun while he motioned with his left to Rick who finally had joined him. He arched his eyebrows, widening his stance a little bit when Rick's face became serious at once. Rick nodded, and then knocked at the door with a sharp rap. "Police! Open the door, sir, ma'am!"

They could hear the shuffling of feet, hushed voices — of the man and a woman — and then the door was opened, just as Rick was about to knock again. A man loomed in the door frame, taller than Rick, with a thick mop of black, unruly hair and a full beard. His dark eyes were burning with barely restrained anger, and Danny nervously flipped the safety off his weapon, ready to pull the gun if the guy so much as twitched the wrong way. Rick stepped forward, making a soothing gesture at Danny and motioning with the other hand at the guy. "Sir, we have a complaint about noise coming from your house. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, s'all right. Just a heated argument. Couple stuff, you know?" The man eased his stance visibly, his eyes never leaving Rick's face, his curled hands opening up. He mustered a big fake smile at Rick, then at Danny, and shrugged. "You married, Officer?" When Rick did not make a move, the guy just shrugged again. "If you are, you know that sometimes an argument gets loud. And when I gestured a little bit too much, I knocked the glass off the table. That's all."

Danny craned his neck to try and see beyond the man, tried to make out the woman behind him, but to no avail. The tall, big form of the man blocked his view into the back of the house effectively. "I promise we'll be nice and silent now, Officers." There was something in the man's voice that made Danny's skin crawl, and obviously Rick felt the same, as he stepped aside and motioned at the man. "Please, Sir, would you step outside? I want to talk to your wife for a second."

The man seemed willing to protest, to object, but then obeyed and came down, standing on the same step as Danny did, and towering almost a foot over him. Danny kept his hand on his gun. He might be small, but he was fast, and he was determined. The man grinned at him, his now cold eyes focused on Danny, his expression one of put-on boredom.

Danny didn't move. He heard how Rick talked to someone in the house — the woman they'd heard, most certainly, but he couldn't say it for real since he didn't hear or see her. After a minute or two, Rick came back. He nodded stiffly at the man, whose bored grin now morphed into triumph when Rick started to speak. "Well, Sir, I hope we don't have to come here again. Please mind your neighbors and don't make too much noise at this time of the night. Good night, Sir. Ma'am." He looked beyond the man at the woman Danny still hadn't seen yet.

Rick nudged Danny and once back in the car, Danny frowned at Rick. "Why are we just leaving? He hit her, right? God, I can't stand these assholes. We could've-"

"No." Rick raised a hand to stop Danny. "We could not. I wish we could, but we can't, okay? Don't go there, Danny. Yes, I saw her face, and I saw his fingerprints on her cheek. But she said 'no'. She said it's alright. So we have no authority to intervene. As much as we want to. _No_." He took a deep breath and grabbed his now cold cup of coffee. "We can only act when she reports him."

"Or when something happens in front of our very eyes." Danny sighed and made a face when he pulled the car out of the driveway. "It just doesn't feel _right_. Why doesn't she ask for help? We are here at her door, we could have taken that asshole with us."

"Okay." Rick put a hand on Danny's arm and indicated him to stop the car at the curb. He waited, until Danny had cut the engine and turned to him, a curious look in his blue eyes. "Listen, D. It's not that easy. Let's assume, yeah, okay, we would have convinced her to tell us he'd hit her. And then? We would have taken him with us, processed him, put him into a cell for a night or two, until a judge is having time for him — and then what? He would swear it was just an accident, that he'd never done this before, and that he had been a little bit drunk and lost control — maybe his cat had died the day before blah blah blah. And the judge would wag his finger at him and simply set him free. You know what happens then? He goes home and beats the shit out of that poor woman for causing so much trouble.

"We can't keep him away from her, and she's so cowed by him she won't leave him. Sometimes, D., sometimes, doing the right thing is the wrong way. I've seen these situations before. If she doesn't speak up for herself, if she doesn't want a change, we can't help her. Tough, but that's life."

Danny chewed on Rick's words. He opened his mouth, closed it again, curled his fingers into fists, and opened them again. "But it's, it's… I became a police officer because I wanted to _help_, Rick! I wanted to make things _better _for people! I wanted to bring them justice! This is — this is a travesty of justice." He spat the words out, slapping a hand against the steering wheel.

Rick pursed his lips. "We all did once upon a time, D. They don't prepare you rookies for that in the Police Academy. All they give you is a set of regulations and expectations, a gun, a pair of shiny new handcuffs and a likewise shiny badge, but they don't prepare you for this. Welcome to reality."


	2. Chapter 2

_Anger:_ _A strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility. _[Oxford Dictionary]

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_**Today**_

"_Welcome to reality_," Danny repeated and once again rubbed over the bridge of his nose. "At that time, I thought Rick exaggerated. I was barely 22," he laughed humorlessly. "Of course I thought I would know better."

"Mhm." Steve had slowly moved into Danny's office and had sat down on the offered seat while his partner was talking. He was about to nudge him to continue when his phone rang, and Steve frowned at the offending device, definitely not happy about the interruption. "I am — I'm sorry, I have to take it." He sighed when he recognized the number and answered the call, noticing at the same time how Danny's face closed up again, before he concentrated on the person on the other end of the line. It was the Governor, demanding information about Adam. She had heard some rumors and wanted clarification on that _at once_.

"I'm sorry, Danny," Steve repeated after ending the call and imagining for a second how good it would feel to just throw the phone out of the window. "But I have to talk her out of her suspicions. I can't have her nose around Adam's case, not when we are finally making progress." He got to his feet and headed for the door, only to stop there. "Why don't you come over to my place later, huh? We haven't done that in a while now, just the two of us, a couple of beers and some steaks? And you tell me the rest of what had happened then."

Danny sucked his upper lip in and thought about that for a second, then shook his head. "Ah well, it's not really an evening-filling story to tell. I put Ray behind bars, Brooke got her divorce and moved away, and that's it."

Steve let out a bitter, angry half-laugh. "Oh, no, you won't just go mute on me now. I deserve the whole story, don't you think so? _I had to put my finger inside you_ to keep you from dying! Don't try to palm me off with '_it was nothing'_!" He trembled, his whole body was shaking lightly with the emotions coursing through him. Steve clenched his eyes shut, desperately trying to regain his composure.

Warm, calloused fingers grabbed his own, suddenly cold feeling hand and steadied it, carefully caressing his finger tips. Steve slowly opened his eyes, staring directly into those of Danny. "Hey. Hey, okay. Huh? It's just — I'm not particularly proud of what happened then, okay? It's all coming back to me now. But if — if this means so much to you, I will tell you the _whole _story." The way Danny emphasized the word "whole" made Steve wonder how many versions of this story existed, and why Danny seemed to feel uncomfortable to talk about it at all.

"Yes, it means so much to me, Danny. You almost _died_. I almost _lost _you." He pulled Danny into a brief but fierce hug, before turning around and heading for his own office. He grabbed the keys to the Silverado, never really taking his eyes off Danny, who retook his place behind the desk and just sat there for long minutes. Steve pressed his lips into a thin line. His phone rang, yanking him out of his thoughts. "Yes, I am on my way. Please tell the Governor I'll be with her in a few minutes!"

Danny pushed the empty plate away from the edge of the table and leaned back, both hands rubbing over his full stomach, and moaned indecently. "Man, I swear, they must play Mozart all the time to these cows and rub their ears or something. That was the best steak I've had in years!"

Steve, nodded, feeling just as satisfied as Danny. "They really treat their livestock very respectful. Of course this comes with a higher price, but I am willing to pay it if I know the beasts didn't have to suffer and had a normal life before they turned into my next meal. There's still some mashed potatoes left, though." He pushed the bowl toward Danny, but the other man declined.

"If I eat another bite, I swear, Steve, I'm going to explode," Danny laughed softly and turned his chair away from the table on the lanai toward the ocean where the sun was just about to dip into the blue surface of the calm water. He stretched like a lazy cat, his t-shirt riding up a little bit to expose a small patch of tanned, golden furred skin.

Steve chuckled, too, and shrugged. "Just don't want you to spread the word that at McGarrett's you get up hungry from the table."

Danny looked at Steve, his face suddenly pensive. But before Steve could ask what had crossed his friend's mind, Danny beat him to it. "You know, that doesn't sound so bad as a motto for the restaurant. _Nobody leaves hungry_. _Just ask for a refill!_"

"You mean _Steve's_, huh?" Steve's eyes crinkled at the corners as he spoke the words that he knew would rile Danny up. And for sure, it worked every time. As it did now.

"No, Steven, we won't call the restaurant after you, am I clear? It is an _Italian _restaurant, ergo it needs an _Italian _name, something like "_La Grotta_" or "_Al Camino_" or "_Napoli_"." Danny glowered at Steve. "And I know exactly what you, my friend, are doing here. You feed me, you get me my favorite brand of beer, it's nice and warm and cozy, and a light breeze is coming from the ocean. You're seducing me." Obviously pleased with his detective skills, Danny turned to watch the sunset again.

Steve had to process that for a moment, not taking his eyes away from his friend. Then: "Does it work?"

Danny stared at Steve. "Does it — does it work, he asks! Well, depends on what your intentions are, Smooth Dog McGarrett!" He crossed his arms, a smug smile on his face.

"They are absolutely honorable." Steve raised his hands in a disarming gesture. When he put them back to lie relaxed on his thighs, his face became serious. "But there is still something that I want from you, and you know exactly what that is. Ray Gardner. What did you do to piss him off so much that he felt the need to shoot you after what, 20 years?"

"19 years," Danny corrected automatically. He grabbed the bottle of beer and lifted it to his lips, then put it back onto the table without drinking from it. "It's— it's a bit complicated, I think. Well, or not... no, actually it isn't. It was a string of choices that were not the right ones, but seemed like the right ones at that time." He scratched his head and sighed. "I have to go into detail for that, though, to make you understand _why _I acted _how _I acted. And Eric's involved, too, but if you tell him one word that you know about this, I will have to kill you and dispose your body where no one will ever find it. And I am capable of that! Italian blood runs through my veins."

"Eric?" Steve frowned. "Did that guy threaten Eric?" He made some quick mental calculations. "He was a teenager then, right? Was the guy one of his teachers?"

Danny shook his head, suddenly feeling tired and worn. He hadn't thought about what had happened for such a long time, but talking about it now brought it all back. All the helplessness, the frustration, the anger. "Just let me explain, okay? I know Eric thinks that it's because of me that he came back on the right track. But in a way he did the same for me, so I don't feel like he owes me anything. Eric was 14 then, and most of the time everywhere else but in school." He snorted. "Was quite a brat, that boy. Gave Stella more sleepless nights than the four of us did to my mom together. No, Ray Gardner was not Eric's teacher. They never met, actually. Eric was — I was on the beat with Rick when we got that call from the dispatcher."

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_**19 years ago**_

Danny was driving the car. Of course he did, because, as Rick had said smugly: "_All the rookies need to learn how to drive. You have to get used to the official roads and shortcuts in town. Besides, it's a privilege to drive your training officer. In exchange, he shares his knowledge and wisdom with you, after all!_" On the other hand, that meant that Rick was the one who paid for their coffee or snacks. This was not common, Danny had learned some time ago, but obviously Rick knew how broke Danny was after he moved out of his parents' house. He liked the older man, he really did. Rick never treated him patronizingly or like his body servant as he had heard happened to other rookies. He was fair and patient, and Danny had even begun to eat dinner at least once per week at the Petersons', afterward playing some computer games with Rick's son Cole, who already adored Danny.

It had been a pretty busy day so far for Danny and Rick, a little argument between neighbors here, a little fight between teenagers there, whom they escorted to school after mediating, and finally a classic: a cat in a tree. Danny had almost fallen off the tree when he had at last been able to grab the cat, because of course he had been the one to climb the tree. "_You're so much younger, and you don't have that bummed knee_". That damn fleabag had punched all of her claws into his arm when he was about to get back down to solid ground. Rick's laughter still rang in his ears, and Danny was still pouting when the dispatcher called them.

"_Car 3963, there's a shoplifter reported at 400 Bergen Avenue. Please take over._"

When they arrived, the owner was already in the parking lot in front of his shop, clutching the collar of a smaller person and occasionally shaking the boy in time with the flood of words he spit out. Danny and Rick climbed out of the car, and the old, scrawny man with eyebrows as thick as beams pulled the kid toward the officers. "Oh, finally you are here, I called ages ago! Here, take him and throw him into prison, he stole from me and then lied about it when I caught him red-handed." He shook the boy with every word, and Danny was sure he could hear the kid's teeth rattle.

"First of all, sir, please let him go. He won't run, right, son?" Rick held out a placating hand and looked sternly at the boy who only now lifted his head to look at Rick.

Danny drew in a surprised breath. He knew the kid all too well. It was Eric, his oldest sister Stella's child. Rick noticed his reaction and shot him an inquiring look. When Danny stared at him, Rick grabbed his arm and pulled him a few steps away from the owner and the thief. "What's up, D.? You know that kid?"

"Yes, he's my nephew, he's my sister's son, Eric." Danny felt his heart sink. It would kill Stella to see that her son was about to head down the same wrong and dangerous road as his father had done.

"Okay. Okay, look, this is what we do. Let me do the talking, you just do what I tell you, okay?" Rick had put a hand on Danny's shoulder and smiled a half smile at him. Danny nodded, following Rick numbly back to the shop owner and Eric. "So, Mr., uh, Singh?" Rick had read the sign on the shop where the name was written, and put both hands on his hips. Over the course of a mere second, he had shifted from Danny's fatherly friend to professional cop. Danny caught himself admiring that ability. He really needed to learn how to do that. "What did the kid take?" Danny noticed that Rick didn't say "steal", but Mr. Singh was obviously oblivious to that little detail.

The man started to rant, both hands flailing. "He took two cans of soda, and gum, and oh, the new issue of the Playboy, before he bolted for the door when he saw that I noticed that he put the things into his jacket!"

Rick pondered over this for a moment, then turned to Eric, hands still on his hips, ignoring the boy's hateful and stubborn gaze to his feet. "So, you had two sodas, gum, a magazine. Quite a lot to carry around with only two hands, huh?"

Danny frowned, mirroring Eric's look when the boy finally looked up and directly at Rick who now smiled at him conspiratorially.

"Huh?" Eric uttered, but before he could add anything, or insult Rick, the man continued. "There are twinkies on the shelf next to the exit, right? You were about to grab some of them, too, and then head for the register, is that correct?"

Again, Danny's expression was the same as Eric's. Eric's eyes darted from Rick to Mr. Singh to Danny and back to Rick. "Uh, yes?" He answered, rather posing it as a question than a real response.

"Good boy." Rick winked at Eric and turned back to Mr. Singh who was now the one who frowned, not sure what had just happened. "So, Mr. Singh, I think you misjudged the situation. Is it possible that you exaggerated a tiny little bit? Because the boy here," he put an amicable hand on Eric's shoulder, "was about to come to you and pay."

Mr. Singh visibly deflated, now definitely insecure. "But, but I saw…" he started again, but when Rick slightly shook his head, the friendly smile still on his face, the older man sighed defeated. "Well, yes, this is possible, of course."

"Very well." Rick made a gesture at Eric. "Go in and pay now, boy. Then we'll bring you back home."

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_**Today **_

Steve stared at Danny, his mind unable to grasp what his friend had just told him. "Wow. But Eric _did _want to steal that stuff, right?"

Danny nodded, not looking up at Steve. His fingers were fiddling with the label on the beer bottle. "Yeah, of course he wanted to. But not because he had no money, on the contrary: he _did _have money, he paid for the stuff, but he thought it was fun to just grab the things and bolt. He really was a little asshole back then! And if I'd known what Rick had been up to that day, I would've stopped him. We brought Eric home that day. Because Stella was at work I had to postpone the talk I wanted to have with her about Eric. I was angry at Rick, ashamed, and, I swear, Steve, I felt like a kid who had taken the last cookie and didn't want to confess, as if everyone could see only by looking at my face what we had done. Police arbitrariness is what people call it these days, but of course it existed then, too. And I never wanted to be a part of that! I was full of ideals, wanted nothing but to help and bring justice, and then we did this? I was so fucking angry, but Rick just laughed at me. '_That's how the wind blows on the streets'_ and '_you want to destroy your own nephew's future because he made a silly mistake? Give him a second chance!_'

"I told Rick I didn't want to be part of his power games, that I wanted to be a good police officer. Well, he tore me a new one for that. Began to list all the people he had helped in the ten years he walked the beat already and how many lives he had saved! He said that sometimes, you have to bend the law a little bit for the right results. This shot across the bow would be the pivotal point to get Eric back on the right track, he said. The next day, I was assigned to Pete Evans, because Rick had hurt his bad knee again and was out for a week or two. I was glad he was away, that _I_ was away from _him_, because I felt played by him. And I was still so _angry_."

Steve nodded sympathetically. "What about the talk with Stella? And was it a pivotal point for Eric?"

Danny ruefully shook his head, placing the bottle back on the table, the label completely gone. "The talk was, uh, it was terrible. Stella was shocked about what Eric had done — or had been about to do, and in the end, we both screamed at each other. I blamed her of spoiling Eric on the one hand and neglecting him on the other. I said some really tough things to her that I still feel guilty about until today, although she has forgiven me a long time ago." Danny sighed. "And Eric took Rick's shot across the bow as a free pass, and got sucked into a gang."


	3. Chapter 3

_Bargaining__: An agreement between two or more people or groups as to what each will do for the other. _[Oxford Dictionary]

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_**19 years ago**_

Working with Pete was _boring_, plain and simple. He literally used Danny as his chauffeur, and on their patrols told him to drive him from one snack point to the other. Not much happened during three or four days, and Danny started to doubt his career choice.

It was Sunday morning, and they had been called again because of a noise complaint to the Gardners though (and yes, Danny had memorized the name because in the precinct the officers already started to groan whenever a noise complaint with that name on it was reported. Some had even thrown dices to prevent from getting send there), and of course there was "_no reason for that, officers, really, it was just a mishap, my clumsy wife dropped the sauce bowl_".

Pete entered the house and Danny once again was stuck outside with the glowering Ray Gardner who tried to look innocent and surprised, but this time Danny caught a glimpse of Brooke, Ray's allegedly "clumsy" wife. She seemed just a year or two older than Danny, with long honey-colored hair that flowed over her face, and blue eyes cast down to avoid looking at Pete when he pushed past Ray into the house to pose Brooke the same question as officers had done the last five or six times.

She obviously gave him the same answer as always, and Pete rolled his eyes when the door had closed behind the couple. "This is really getting annoying," Pete grumbled and dragged his heavy body into the car, only to announce to Danny: "Next time, boy, you go in. Perhaps your pretty face can convince her that not all men are assholes she has to be afraid of. Now get that car to _Joey's_, I wanna have a pizza."

When their shift was over a few hours later and Danny sat down at the table in his parents' house — Clara Williams insisted that all her children had to appear for sunday's family lunch, he sighed frustrated. "I don't understand her," Danny said while watching his mother set up the table. He had wanted to help her, but she batted his hands away from her precious china that only was allowed to leave the cupboard on sundays.

"How often do we have to come until she finally opens her mouth? I mean, it's obvious that he's beating the shit out of her. She can't be so stupid and continue to protect him. I really don't get it, Mom, how can a person have such a lack of self-esteem? It's, uh, I don't even want to go there anymore when we get a complaint reported. And I, I can't even sleep properly anymore, whenever I close my eyes, my thoughts won't stop turning and turning and thinking about: _how could I help her_?!"

Clara hummed with Danny's words and folded the napkins, placing them neatly next to the plates. She tilted her head a bit to control the position of the napkin next to Danny's plate, rearranged it, and then nodded satisfied. "Mom, do you even listen to what I'm saying?" Danny's frustration was palpable.

"My dear son, of course I listen to you. I have raised four kids, I am capable of multitasking." She gave her oldest son a radiant smile, but it deflagrated under his gloomy gaze. "Oh, come on, honey, don't give me that look! It's sunday, your work for today is done, relax!"

Danny made a face but forced out a smile at his mother's expectantly raised eyebrows. "Yeah, Ma, but..."

"No buts." Clara pointed a finger at Danny. "I don't want gloomy faces at my table. You know the rule. And I do not want you to judge the poor woman before you know all the circumstances. Perhaps you and Stella should have a little talk about this, later."

Danny frowned. "Stella? Uh, Mom, I don't think she's eager to talk to me these days." His mother knew about what Eric had done, so he thought she would understand, but:

"Danny, you and Stella will talk after the dessert." And when Ma Williams had set her mind on something, no one could steer her away from her resolve. Danny sighed and gave in. Clara's expression softened again and she went over to him, cupping his face with her hands. "Daniel Williams, even when you were just a little boy I knew one day you would grow up into an observant, caring man with a heart of gold. I think this fine young man is standing in front of me right now. You are going to be a great dad one day. Okay? And now, go get the rest of the family so we can have lunch. There is a time for helping people, and there is a time for eating."

.

.

_**Today**_

Steve returned from the kitchen and held another bottle of beer out for Danny. His partner grabbed it; watching drops of condensed water slowly roll down the slender neck of the bottle and over his fingers.

"Stella was 17, almost 18 when she became pregnant with Eric," he started and took a sip. "She was so in love with that guy, and none of us could understand that. Dad outright _hated _him, saying there was nothing good in the boy, and forbade her to ever see him again. Mom was a little bit more sensitive and tried to make her see what a scumbag he was and that it would end in a broken heart. But of course Stella didn't listen. She's a Williams, after all. And when she became pregnant, she moved out and married him on her 18th birthday."

Danny sighed, and Steve could see how the wrinkles on his forehead deepened. "Surprisingly, that marriage went well for about 10 years. Then Stella found out that he had a throng of girlfriends next to her and was neck-deep in some Italian mobster thing. They had a big fight, and he beat the living daylights out of her. Eric called us, and we succeeded to get them both out of his clutches. Stella filed for divorce and moved back into our neighborhood. The scumbag decided to show up one day to get her back, but my father and some of his firefighter colleagues made it clear to him that this was not a good idea. He never came back then." Danny's grip on the bottle tightened, his knuckles went white.

"I had no idea why Mom insisted that I should talk to Stella about Brooke, until Stella started to tell what had happened between her and Eric's father, way before he beat her up. It had not been the first time that he had raised his hand against her, and Mom had tried to get her to leave him for some time already. Stella said that it started subtle; first simply shouts and throwing around some stuff. Then he began to make her feel guilty about him getting angry, claiming it was _her _fault that he had to shout at her. And one day his hand slipped and he beat her. Stella said that it was like a maelstrom that at first pulls you into its current slowly, lazily, but when you notice that you get pulled _under,_ it is too late. Almost too late for Stella. She emphasized that if she wouldn't have had us at that time, her family for support, she wouldn't have had the strength to leave him. And still it was almost too late for her."

Steve cleared his throat. In all those years he had known Danny, he had never talked about that. And Steve had to admit that this could be an explanation why Eric was, well, the way Eric was. And why Danny was so proud that his nephew had gotten his life back together. "So you checked out Brooke's background?" he finally asked when the silence started to stretch out.

Danny nodded, pursing his lips. "She only had one sister left; her parents had died when she was a teenager. She had been to a foster family, and although there was nothing bad in the files about that part of her life, I guess it shaped her into the perfect victim for Ray Gardner. Having no support from a family, she probably thought there was no way out. After the talk with Stella I knew I had to change that."

.

.

_**19 years ago**_

Although the woman at the desk was bent forward and her long hair veiled her face, Danny knew instantly that it was Brooke. It hadn't been too hard to find out that she was working at the district library, and since it was a pretty small library, there hadn't been many options where she was seated. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans — he was off duty and in plain clothes; and stepped up to her desk under the big red "information" sign. "Do you have books on the weather?" he asked and smiled when she looked up and froze.

Her eyes darted left and right and the tip of her tongue peeked out when she moistened her obviously suddenly dry lips. "Officer Williams, you shouldn't be here," she said in a hushed voice and took another look past him, clearly nervous.

Danny arched his eyebrows. "Well, this is a public library and I want to borrow a book." He emphasized his words with a firm nod of his head, and Brooke seemed to relax a little bit. "I have found something interesting in your catalogue and wanted to take a look at it, but with the signatures on the books," he shrugged, "I don't get along. So if you could please tell me where its location is?" He held out a piece of paper to her, and after a moment of hesitation she took it. She unfolded it and frowned, looked at him, back at the paper again.

"It's — I'll show you." She slowly rose from the seat, rubbing the palm of her free hand nervously up and down her grey cotton slacks. Another look over Danny's shoulder, and then she scurried around a corner, setting a fast pace through a labyrinth of shelves so that Danny had to step up to follow her. She led him around another corner and another again, then suddenly stopped in front of some higher shelves and put her hand on a book, without really looking at it. "That's it."

"Thanks." Danny took the book and noticed that although her back was almost against the wall, she could still see the whole floor of the library through the loosely exhibited books in the shelf. _Clever girl_.

"Why are you really here?" Brooke suddenly asked and took out another book, clutching it against her chest like a shield, a physical barrier between her and him. Her shoulders were hunched, her whole body seemed as tense as a bowstring, and he could clearly see the nervous and scared flicker in her eyes.

Remembering the rules about how to deal with a frightened person, Danny took a half-step backward to give her more space and held his own book with both hands to show her he couldn't reach for a weapon without her noticing it. His smile stayed in place, although it frayed a little bit at the edges. "I think you know very well why I am here," he said in a low, calm yet determined voice. "You've called me several times, but always hung up before we could talk. I can help you, Brooke. And Ray won't turn up here; I dropped by the construction site he is currently working at and saw that he was there. My partner is still there and will warn me if Ray makes a move. Okay? It's safe here, Brooke."

She shook her head, pressing the book even further against her chest. "I threw your card away as soon as you left the house." She lied, and knew that _he _knew it was a lie. "I don't know who called you, Officer, but it wasn't me. Everything is fine at home, and Ray, Ray loves me." Her lower lip trembled when she raised her head now high, and Danny wasn't so sure if she tried to convince him or _herself _of her words.

Danny sucked in his cheeks and nodded slowly, then eased one hand off the book he was holding and pulled his cell phone out. He pressed some buttons and showed the display to her. "No, you didn't throw my card away. Or if you did, you first memorized the number. Come on, Brooke. I want to help you. You don't have to endure this. You really don't have to."

"You don't understand," she blurted out, obviously louder than intended as one hand flew to her mouth, covering it, not even pretending anymore she hadn't called him. She stared through the hole in the shelf, and after she seemed sure no one had noticed a thing, she continued in a lower voice. "You don't understand. Ray did everything for me. He loves me. He helped me get this job… Yes, maybe he gets angry sometimes, but that's my own fault then. I should know better by now what agitates him and still I'm too clumsy. It's my own fault," she repeated and lowered her eyes again, stared at an invisible point between the tip of her shoes.

Danny slowly shook his head, thinking of a way to tell Brooke to show her his point of view. "There are things we have to endure, and things we do _not _have to endure. Things we have to endure are traffic jams, or the train being late. The fact that we had to put our dog down on my tenth birthday. The tenth! The one where you turn into a two-digit-person." He smiled a little bit sad about that memory, of the sorrow that had threatened to suffocate him that day, besides the feeling of all this being unfair to him on his great day. "My mom asked me if I wanted the dog to suffer, only to have one happy day and if we should put her down the next day. When I hesitated, she said that we have to endure some things we cannot change or only for a very high price."

Brooke had lifted her head while he spoke, and now looked into his eyes for the first time for real. Tears had formed in her eyes, and when he continued to speak, one silently slipped over her cheek. "This here, your situation — this is not one of these you have to endure, Brooke. No one should get beaten over a broken plate. Or a burned dinner. Or just because Ray is in a bad mood. Let me help you, Brooke. I can take care that Ray won't be able to lay a finger on you again."

"No, you can't." Her voice was barely audible now, and another tear rolled over her cheek when she averted her eyes once again. "No one can help me. I can't go anywhere. Ray will find me. He will kill me if I leave him. He said I owe him too much. I owe him _everything_. He won't just let me go. And I don't know where I could go to anyways…"

Despite all her desperation, her fear, her sorrow, Danny still saw the chink in the armor she had built around her mind. "But _I_ do know," he simply said, and by the way her eyes flicked up at him for a second with something like a flash of hope before she looked away again told him everything he needed to know. "There's this women's shelter at the other side of the town — they have a big fence around the building and the door is guarded by a security guy around the clock. You will not be registered under your official name but with an alias, and even if Ray should find out where you went, they will deny your presence to keep you safe."

Brooke blinked, the information Danny had given her slowly sinking in. The book she had pressed against her chest slowly went lower as she visibly relaxed. She processed everything Danny had said, then: "He won't find me?" she finally asked, her eyes darting nervously over to the hole in the shelf and the library behind it. "He won't know where I am?"

"Nope." Danny smiled at her, something like satisfaction spreading through him. "He won't."


	4. Chapter 4

_Depression__: A mental condition characterized by feelings of severe despondency and dejection, typically also with feelings of inadequacy and guilt, often accompanied by lack of energy and disturbance of appetite and sleep. _[Oxford Dictionary]

.

.

_**Today**_

"So you brought her to the shelter, and Ray is still so pissed after 19 years that he wanted to kill you?" Steve took a deep breath, not really convinced that this was the whole story. "What a psycho." He shot a sideway glance at Danny who shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"N-no," Danny finally confessed. "It's not _that _simple… as I said, I was young and hot headed and susceptible. Brooke didn't agree to come with me, at least not then. She said she would think about it, and when I left the library I had the feeling she really would consider it. I worked some day shifts for the next weeks, and although we met several times after work to talk about the shelter and a probable way to get her there safe, she never really gave me the green light." Danny scratched the back of his head and carefully smoothed his hair back down before he continued. "I got literally obsessed with the wish to help her. And the more I got to know her, the more I realized that she needed the help. She was such a fine, sensitive, intelligent and witty woman and deserved better than that alcoholic asshole-"

"Danny." Steve leaned forward, putting both elbows on the table and looked at his friend. "Did you fall in love with her?"

Danny swallowed visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with the motion. "I can't tell, Steve. I really can't tell. I definitely felt attracted to her, but love? I, I don't know. Perhaps, under different circumstances, we would have fallen in love with each other, but as it was... No, it was not love. God, I was so so young and so so stupid! When Brooke finally agreed to come with me to the shelter, she gave me a bag with clothes and stuff, things she hadn't worn in ages, so Ray wouldn't notice their absence in the closet. I planned to bring the bag to the shelter in advance, and fetch Brooke an hour or two later. She wanted to get some things settled in the house first, she said.

"When I came to the shelter, though, they told me they had to give the spare place I organized for Brooke to another woman who had needed it instantly, but that the next day a place would be free for Brooke. I hadn't even left the property of the shelter when Brooke called me, crying. Saying that Ray had noticed how nervous she was all day and had threatened her if she was up to something. She had told him that she wanted to visit her sister and be home later, and although he had accepted that, she knew she had to get to the shelter before he decided to call her sister or even show up at her door."

Rubbing a hand over his tired-looking face, Danny continued. "It was a catastrophe. I met Brooke at our venue, but when I had to tell her that the shelter was full, she started to cry all over again and wanted to get out of the car. I was able to soothe her and brought her to a motel in a suburb. I left her there, told her to lock the door and only open when she heard a certain knock." Unconsciously, Danny's left hand drummed a short rhythm on the table. "When I came back I brought something to eat with me, because, well, I don't know why I came back that night. I was so stupid, Steve, so damn _stupid_!"

Steve watched Danny silently. The words literally spilled out of him, and although Steve could see that the memory was painful, it also seemed cathartic for Danny to finally tell someone.

"She was still shy and silent, but something was different about her when she let me in and we ate the food. She had turned the radio on, and after a while, she could laugh, and she seemed to relax, and she was literally glowing with a newfound hope, Steve — she was so _beautiful_. Then there was this song on the radio. It was so infectious, and then... I — we — I can't tell who started it, but when I came back to my senses, I had lost my shirt. She was wearing just the top she had under her blouse, and her fingers were working on my belt to open it…" Danny gulped, shaking his head. "It was then that she stopped, too. We looked at each other, and everything was — was so weird. I mean, I never wanted to — she was my protege, how could I, and yet… So I just grabbed my shirt and said I had to go, that it would be a mistake to go further, and that I would come back tomorrow to bring her to the shelter… I don't know how long I have been driving around without a destination, but I ended up at Rick's house, and although it was pitch black Rick let me in and talked with me."

.

.

_**19 years ago**_

Rick's hair was ruffled, and he already wore his pajamas, but he moved aside, so Danny could enter and closed the door carefully behind him. "Kim and Cole are asleep, come on." Motioning at Danny to follow him into the kitchen as if it was regular that Danny showed up at his doorstep at half past one at night, Rick trudged to the coffee machine and set it up before turning around. He leaned against the counter; arms crossed, and looked invitingly at Danny. "Okay, D., spill it. You don't show up at this time here if there's not something that preys on your mind. What's going on? No, wait. It's Brooke again, right?" A smile appeared on Rick's face, half sarcastic, half sympathetic.

Danny sighed and took two mugs out of the cupboard next to Rick's head. "I, well… I… yeah, it's because of Brooke," he then gave in, fixating the coffee machine and waiting until it was done. "I brought her to a safe place. Away from Ray."

Rick frowned, and then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Daniel Williams, knight in a shining armor, huh? So you wore her down, as you always do with me, yeah?" He shook his head. "I hope you made it clear that it's not just about leaving. It's also about _staying away_."

"Yes, of course." Danny poured some coffee into the mugs and handed one over to Rick. He sipped from the hot brew, the small sip helping to clear his agitated mind. "And I promised her I'll be there along the way. Getting out was only the first-"

"You _what_?!" Rick winced when he heard how loud his own voice sounded in the otherwise silent house. He paused, listened, but no sound from above was heard, indicating that his wife or son had woken up from the noise. He breathed in, slow, deep, clearly trying to rein himself in. "You _promised _her? D., what have you gotten yourself into? We are cops. _We never promise anything to people_! Especially not when it's out of our responsibility! We have to stay neutral!"

"Yeah, right. Like you did with Eric?" Danny put the mug down, angry now.

"Eric is family, Danny, _your _family. There's a difference!"

"Really, Rick? You're pulling this card now? Well, Brooke doesn't have a family, so-"

"So you jumped in and took that part over, huh? Oh, D. …" As fast as he had gotten louder, again, Rick calmed down. "Okay, okay. So Brooke means something to you, I take it? I can tell you, it won't work. It cannot work."

Danny stared at Rick. "Oh, yeah, because why, Rick, huh? Huh? Because she's married and off the market? Well, she's going to file for divorce, and once all is over, she'll be free!"

Rick emptied his mug, putting it aside. He reached out and squeezed Danny's shoulder, shook him lightly. "D., D. … You're already deeper in than I thought. Okay. Listen to me. I've never given you bad advice, right? I've seen this before. It never works. Believe me, please! She will never be free of Ray. Not as long as he's not rotting in prison or dead. And even then there's no guarantee she can move on and get rid of what he did to her."

"Well, I'm willing to give it a try." Danny set his jaw.

Rick sighed and put his other hand on Danny's shoulder, thus forcing him gently to look into his eyes. "I know you are. And you know I'll always be there for you when something happens, right? We're partners, D., and although I disagree with you here, that won't change." He patted Danny's cheek and moved a step backward when Danny's phone rang, to give him some space to pull the device out of his pants pocket.

"Williams here. Brooke? What — WHAT?! Why? Oh, sh-... no, stay put, stay where you are, I'm calling an ambulance, I'm already on my way! Just don't move, it's okay, I'm coming!"

.

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_**Today**_

They had gotten up quite some time ago; Steve had noticed how restless and anxious Danny became, the further he went on with his story, and had moved toward the beach, Danny following suit.

Now, Danny took another step forward and watched as the ocean nipped at his bare toes, pulled back and surged forward again with the next wave. Steve was standing a few steps behind him, hands tucked away into his board shorts' pockets. His fingers itched; hell, his whole body _itched _to move and just do something, _anything_. Pulling Danny into a fierce hug and trying to protect him from the memories that haunted him; trying to protect him like he always tried to do, and yet seemed to fail so miserably recently.

Or pulling Ray out of his stretcher in the morgue would be a good start; reviving him with Hawaiian magic and then killing him again suddenly sounded like a feasible and very satisfying goal. And maybe reviving and killing him two, three more times, just for good measure. It was not only because the psycho had wanted and almost succeeded to kill Danny; no, it was more because of the way that man had influenced the lives of so many other people in such a negative manner that almost got them killed, and still had blamed all responsibility on the others. The eternal victim.

"Ray had called her sister some hours after she left. I remember, while I drove back to the motel together with Rick, that I wished that Ray would have called the sister sooner and would have shown up at the motel when I still was there. I had promised her to protect her, and then I hadn't been there." Danny shook his head, continued without turning to Steve, knowing the other man was right there, right behind him and listening.

"He beat her up pretty bad. She was so hurt! Her face was bloody and swollen, and he cracked some ribs, broke her wrist, her nose… They loaded her into the ambulance, and then Rick took me aside. He was shocked too, of course, and there was something in his eyes… He told me he would accompany Brooke to the hospital and make sure that she would get protection there. And said that there was a way to stop Ray, to stop him and to put him away, without me ending up in a trial for murdering him."

Steve nodded, although Danny couldn't see it. When Danny now told him what he had done, how he had set up Ray and had let himself get beaten black and blue, his fingers itched again to reach out to Danny and just hold him. Ray Gardner had injured Danny twice, and Steve hoped that his soul rotted in the deepest, darkest hell.

"The trial against Ray Gardner for battery against a police officer and for assault and battery against his wife was about three, four months later. They were pretty fast on this one. Most certainly, because Rick had pulled some strings and found two former girlfriends of Ray who also testified against him. Seemed as if they only waited for someone to speak up for them to come out and tell what he had done to them. The judge was assured by Ray's history and the fact that he had attacked me, although he knew I was a police officer, that he had to be put away for a long time to secure public tranquility. He was sentenced to 15 years in prison and had to undergo some measures during that time to learn anti-aggressive behavior."

"Well, that didn't really work out." Steve huffed and moved forward until he stood next to Danny.

"No." Danny chuckled. "Not really, no. As I found out today, Ray had lost everything. Brooke sold the house soon after the trial and the speed-divorce, and moved to the West Coast. I've never heard of her again, and he obviously neither. When he was released from prison four years ago, he didn't get a job, a house, nothing… lived from welfare and handouts. Guess that cemented in his head that he was a victim of Brooke, of the other girls and me. Oh, no…" Danny turned to Steve, an alarmed look in his eyes. "Steve, I think we need to find out if he harmed or even killed the others, too! Brooke is okay, she'll be here in a few days to decide what shall happen with Ray's body. I contacted her after you were called to the Governor. But the other two…"

"I'll inform NYPD tomorrow, they'll know where to find them. Or if anything has happened to them." Steve threw a glance at Danny. "You want me to be there, too? When Brooke comes?"

Danny smiled, and for the first time since he had started to talk about what had happened, it was a genuine one. "No, thanks, babe. I can handle this alone."

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_**19 years ago**_

"Hey."

"Hey. Come in." Brooke opened the door further to let Danny in and stepped aside, but didn't reciprocate his wide smile. He shrugged and went straight through to the living room, arms full of unfolded moving boxes. She followed slower, staying in the doorframe. Danny put the boxes down and methodically started to bend them until they were set up. When Brooke still didn't move, Danny paused and looked up to her from his crouched position.

"Okay. What's wrong, Brooke?"

She made a step forward, hesitated, moved another step and then hesitated again. "I — it's just. I, I'm not sure I can do this." She crumpled on the couch.

Danny frowned. "Why, there's enough time, I'm just the vanguard, my siblings will be here in about an hour, and-"

"No, not, not this. _This_." She gestured around, encompassing the whole living room, the whole house.

It took Danny another moment to understand. He sat back and pulled his knees up, hands resting lightly on the kneecaps. "Ray won't come back," he finally said, repeating what he had told her over and over again in the last months. Even when she had decided to leave, to move somewhere else and start anew, he hadn't stopped to reaffirm it. "You are free, Brooke. You are allowed to sell the house because it's yours! You got it from your parents. You can do whatever you want to do." He smiled, hoping it was an encouraging one.

She stared at her fingers, scratching off the rest of the polish from a nail. "He has to go to prison because of _me_, Danny. I've destroyed his life! And mine, and yours! And I'm not sure I can go on with that knowledge, I don't know what to do! There has always been someone to tell me what to do, I just, I _can't_."

Danny blinked and stood up, moved closer to her, slowly, carefully. "Brooke, first of all, no. You did not destroy his life. He destroyed yours. Stop blaming yourself for things that were not your fault."

She sighed soundless, her shoulders going up and down. "But if I hadn't been that clumsy or annoying, he never would have had to raise his hand. Or… or if I'd had the guts to leave him before it came to all this…" She was crying now, a silent, desperate, hopeless weeping.

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey, no." Danny sat down next to her and, after a short moment of hesitation, pulled her into his arms. It was the second time he was touching her at all in all those months since he had stepped up to her and Ray's door in the middle of the night, and this time there was no misguided and impulsive reason behind it. She needed support; the helping arms of a friend who was nothing more than this: a friend, giving in to her need of physical contact. "Forget about all those _ifs _and _whens_, Brooke. You did leave him, and he will no longer be a part of your life. And about what to do, what about you start to tell me what to put into which box, mhm?"

When she finally stopped crying and moved a bit so he knew he could release her, she wiped away the tears and succeeded to produce a shaky smile. "Thank you, Danny. Thank you for everything."


	5. Chapter 5

_Acceptance__: Willingness to tolerate a difficult situation. _[Oxford Dictionary]

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_**Today**_

Steve had fired the grill and put some bottles of beer into the fridge as well as a bottle of lemonade. He and Danny hadn't had the chance to continue their late night talk; the week had been too busy, with Adam's case and Junior and Tani walking the beat like ordinary policemen, leaving Steve and Lou to do all the "dirty" work in the office while Danny took care of Brooke who had arrived three days ago to identify the body of her ex-husband Ray. She was the only ascertainable relative he had, and thus was responsible for his body that was preserved in Noelani's morgue. Two hours ago, Brooke's flight back to LA had lifted off, but Danny still hadn't arrived. They had agreed to meet at Steve's house once she was gone, and while Grace had come on her own to Steve to pass the weekend with her dad and uncle, Danny had taken a swerve from the airport to Rachel's to bring Charlie along. This should have taken Danny approximately an hour, and so Steve left the fire in the grill in the capable hands of Grace and made a beeline for the main door.

No Camaro in sight.

Steve frowned and pulled his phone out. No message from Danny either. He pushed the phone back, and just as he was about to turn around and head inside to grab the keys of the Silverado to drive the route Danny would have to take to find out if he had an accident or perhaps the Camaro had broken down, said car appeared at the end of the road. Steve sighed in relief and went back to the lanai, leaving the door wide open for Danny and Charlie.

Later that night, with the kids all fed and tucked into bed, Steve fell into the beach chair with a contented "Uuuumph" and clinked his bottle of beer against the proffered one from Danny. "So," Steve said after glancing sideways at Danny for a few moments, "you're good?"

Danny took a long sip from the bottle and mused. "Yeah," he finally said and leaned back into the chair, seemingly melting into it. "Brooke's on her way home, and Ray is, well, fish food." He grinned.

Steve snorted. "That's still too good for that asshole. But, there is one thing you have to tell me, Danny. When you started with this story, you mentioned Eric, about him getting sucked into a gang, and that he brought you back on the right track."

"Yeah. You're right." Danny sounded surprised, and after another sip he put the bottle down. "Eric took my help with the shoplift as a free pass, you remember that? He must've started to brag around with that in front of the wrong guys, and was recruited from one of them for smaller errands. Those smaller errands became bigger and bigger, and two years later almost blew up in his face. At the same time, rumors got louder in my precinct about a dirty cop among us, and I had noticed some obliquities in the files about Rick's and my beats. I talked to my mom about it, and she said I should confide in my Captain about this. Eric must've heard that. I had caught him shoplifting some time before again and he had been sentenced to work hours of community service. So Eric heard the talk between mom and me, and accused me of being a hypocrite. For being the moral crusader in public, but in reality being just another dirty cop. Of course I was angry, I was furious! But Eric was right, and I had known all along what I had to do, although I shied away from taking action. Until Eric called me just another disappointment in his life."

"You talked to the Captain and they set up a trap for Rick?" When Danny simply nodded, Steve continued, some old, almost forgotten puzzle pieces finally falling into place. "And they caught him red-handed. He got sentenced to ten years, and you were the main witness."

"Yes." Danny pondered. "So many of my decisions I have made in the last almost 20 years have influenced my life, have _endangered _my family, me, but still. I wouldn't change a thing."

"No?" Steve couldn't help but let the small smile appear on his lips that forced its way to the surface.

"No." Danny's voice was firm and determined. "Five hours ago I said goodbye to Brooke and left to wait in the lobby for her to pack up her things and to bring her to the airport. I was almost at the elevator when I turned around to ask her to stay a little bit longer, to stay another week, so we could get in touch again. I wanted to tell her what had happened in those 19 years, tell her about my job, about Grace and Charlie, about Five-0 and you, and how a Jersey boy ended up in Hawaii. I wanted to know what had happened to her in these years, if she had married again, had children… But I was a second too late. And I realized then and there, that although I have made so many mistakes back then, it had been exactly the road that led me to the here and now. It shaped me into who I am today."

Steve's smile now spread over his whole face, although he tried to stifle it when he made a mock scrutiny on Danny. "Well, from what I see, that's not such a bad result," he chuckled and raised his bottle to clink it against Danny's once more.

Danny grinned at him and took his bottle up to drink to that. "Thanks, babe."

"You're welcome."

"But since we are already at old stories from our wild years — what about you tell me something from your past now? Quid pro quo, you know?"

"From my past? Oh… sure! What do you want to hear?"

"Operation Strawberry Fields."


End file.
